


Away, away, the day again.

by tricktactoe



Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017) RPF
Genre: Introspection, M/M, Making Out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-18
Updated: 2018-02-18
Packaged: 2019-03-20 18:32:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13723554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tricktactoe/pseuds/tricktactoe
Summary: Paris Q&A moments, during and after.On the stage in Paris, Timmy looked like an androgynous rock star, and Armie was struck by it. He was lost to thoughts of pressing Timmy up against a wall and leaving the prints of his mouth across Timmy’s neck, face, lips.





	Away, away, the day again.

**Author's Note:**

> This is an Introspective Armie Fic™ featuring Timmy and [that eyebrow raise](http://ohwilde.tumblr.com/post/170282474098/littlelovebomb-the-eyebrow-raise).

Armie knew all the little things. The tells of Timothée’s body. The way his shoulder joints moved underneath oversized sweaters and jackets. The way his eyelashes rested when his eyes were closed, dusting across his pale skin. Pale skin, that refused to tan even under the California sun.

He knew about Timothée’s inability to stay still, even after they’d come together, resting on top of Armie. Last night, Timmy’s fingers had moved restlessly in the space between them, touching, tweaking, with Armie sated, done for the night. Timmy’s legs had jiggled in a satisfied way that had almost tempted Armie to rouse again.

Almost. His age and the pressure of time had been the only thing keeping him back. His refractory period  couldn’t handle the buzzing energy of a twenty-two-year-old.

Armie was onto their game of who-does-it-better when it came to discrete flirting at public events. He had worked on his poker face for this very reason. But sometimes it was just impossible to pretend that what Timmy was doing didn’t affect him deeply and profoundly.

On the stage in Paris, Timmy looked like an androgynous rock star, and Armie was struck by it. He was lost to thoughts of pressing Timmy up against a wall and leaving the prints of his mouth across Timmy’s neck, face, lips.

Timmy wasn’t always aware of what his mere existence did to Armie, Timmy’s inner self-critic ready to question everything. Armie lived for those moments when he could make Timmy’s disbelief turn into coy assurance. When Timmy stopped questioning how much he meant to Armie and just accepted it.

Timmy wasn’t doubting anything now. He knew he had Armie’s full attention.

Eyes down, fully aware of Armie’s eyes on him, Timmy swept his (artfully tussled) hair behind his ear, leaving Armie to stare at the vision of his translucent neck. His neck, which looked sorely in need of kissing. Armie had spent hours doting on the lines of that neck. Loved doing it for how sensitive Timmy was to it, and for how amazing it felt to have Timmy laid bare under him, neck exposed, completely at Armie’s mercy. In those moments, Armie would dote on Timmy, press kisses up and down his neck, finding the spots that made Timmy squirm. He would press soft, lingering kisses down Timmy’s stomach, reaching the trail of hair leading to where Timmy was most sensitive. And when Timmy could barely stand it, Armie would nuzzle his cock teasingly and let butterfly kisses fall on Timmy’s inner thighs until, finally, with Timmy’s voice urging him on - breathless, reverent - Armie would take him in his mouth.

Timmy was always infinitely more responsive to Armie’s touches after Armie paid attention to his neck. Armie had a pavlovian response Timmy’s neck by now, becoming half-hard without even having time to think. To say Timmy revealing his neck to Armie turned him on was an understatement. 

The cocky eyebrow raise that followed the motion showed Armie that Timmy knew exactly what he was doing.

Armie was helpless to it.

As Timmy let his knee graze Armie’s and their eyes met, Armie knew that he couldn’t hide what he was feeling, his eyes betraying the fondness he felt for Timmy.

That overwhelmed Armie sometimes, too. The simplicity and ease with which they’d fallen into this deep, never-ending affection for each other. They’d been primed for it, a summer spent making out, kissing, in front of cameras, always wondering what it would mean when the cameras weren’t there. Armie hadn’t known it then, but he had been waiting. Waiting for the moment when time and distance made it impossible to resist the pull of Timmy. Made it impossible to second-guess what it meant to look back and miss something he never truly had.

Luckily for both of them, Timmy had spent their time apart doing exactly the same.

It had happened slowly. Moments of teasing at first - remembering Crema - mixed up with moments of what-if’s and could-have’s, hands brushing, arms around each other when they couldn’t let go. When they didn’t want to let go. Then, friendly kisses turned heated, as if by accident, because they couldn’t help it. Months of wondering if they had destroyed everything. Then, realising they had recreated it, started again. Warm kisses, kisses as demonstrations of love.

That was in the past. Now they were a sure thing.

Armie could look openly and Timmy would understand. The people around them would understand. Luca would understand, Elizabeth would understand. Even Harper understood by now, what it meant when Uncle Timmy came around. Armie couldn’t hide - and didn’t _want_ to hide - the warmth he felt at Timmy fitting so seamlessly into his life. Those mornings when he was last to wake, and would find Timmy watching early-morning cartoons with Harper, Elizabeth flitting around the kitchen, her eyes also revealing the startled fondness she felt when she watched Timmy and Harper together. Those mornings took his breath away, and he was abundant with his affections, lest he’d burst with the force of them overtaking him.

They were overtaking him now. And in this moment, Armie had eyes for no one else but Timmy.

So much of their time had been - and was - spent circling each other. Tuned to each other, on their own wavelength and in their own world. It was difficult to understand sometimes, that there had been a time before Timmy. That Timmy was just someone Armie had met two years ago, ready to film a movie they were both open and vulnerable to. Armie choosing this movie, choosing Crema, had already been a defining moment for him. Walking into Timmy’s piano rehearsal, the first time they met, that had defined his life in a different way. A young, exciting actor handpicked by Luca had turned into Timmy. Timmy with his Frank Ocean obsession, his dedication to the craft, to his family and friends. Eyes-wide-open Timmy, unsure of his own worth but proving it relentlessly all the same. This boy turned man had grown before Armie’s very eyes and without Armie realising it, they had grown into each other, grown to be a part of each other.

They had become an entity that Armie couldn’t quite explain. They were canaries in the coal mine, rising from the dust of their old lives as phoenixes. They were best friends and soul mates, and when asked about it, Armie couldn’t keep his adoration for Timmy quiet. He walked the line of truth and fiction delicately, speaking his mind so openly that the intensity of it was lost on those who did not know him. He hid his feelings for Timmy by not hiding them at all. And he knew Timmy to be doing the same.

He let his eyes drop away from Timmy, saving this private moment for later, letting the melody of the French language wash over him as the moderator turned to Luca with another question.

 

* * *

 

The moment they left the stage, Armie pulled on Timmy’s arm, leaving Luca and Esther with a weak excuse as to where they were going. It didn’t matter, they knew. Timmy was laughing, giggling, existing in the limbo between American Timmy and French Timmy. Their hands slid down to grasp each other, not even bothering to hide it. Armie felt a squeeze and looked back at Timmy to find him gazing wide-eyed at Armie. His I-can’t-believe-I-get-to-have-this look.

Armie had to kiss him right now.

Giving up on finding somewhere better, Armie found a somewhat private hallway leading to an emergency exit and pushed Timmy up against one of the walls. Timmy’s arms came around him instantly, and Armie leaned down to breathe in Timmy, his face pushed into Timmy’s neck. 

He placed insistent kisses on that exact spot he’d been teased with before.

Timmy laughed breathlessly and let one of his hands move up to cradle Armie’s face, then he moved it through Armie’s hair, carding gently. Bolts of electricity shot through Armie’s body, trapping him in this moment. He shuddered.

“I can’t believe you pulled that shit,” Armie growled into Timmy’s neck, nipping at it, careful not to leave any marks. Timmy couldn’t stop a helpless giggle.

“Stop being so easy to read and I won’t,” Timmy replied, letting both his hands move down and settle in the small of Armie’s back. Armie moved his head back, finding Timmy’s eyes with his own. He wanted to show Timmy everything he was feeling at this very moment. He was rewarded by the open adoration on Timmy’s face. It took Armie aback. The moment turned serious.

“I’m kidding, never stop,” Timmy said quietly, his hands pulling at Armie’s shirt, desperation overtaking him. Armie moved in as Timmy leaned up and they were kissing, bodies pressed close, no inch of space left between them. Armie tilted his head to get closer, wanting to disappear into Timmy, into this moment. Timmy’s hands were in Armie’s hair, gripping tight, mirroring Armie’s feelings. After a moment, Timmy let out a delicious noise, pushed even closer, biting on Armie’s lower lip. And then Timmy inched back, their lips still barely touching, eyes closed.

They spent minutes just breathing in each other. They’d spend hours if they could.

After a moment, Timmy sighed into Armie’s mouth. The quiet desperation of the moment turned into something else, a softer thing. Armie let his lips travel slowly from the corner of Timmy’s mouth, down his jawline, ending back at Timmy’s neck, inhaling Timmy’s soft, spicy scent again. Armie nosed delicately at Timmy’s hair and then they were simply touching, arms around each other, in each other’s space. Soon they would have to get back to reality, to the promo train. Another television appearance, another interviewer trying and failing to understand the exact nature of their relationship. Photographers calling their names and taking their attention away from each other.

With those thoughts, life and duties started to bleed into the moment. Armie took a step back, letting Timmy go. Timmy, leaning on the wall, closed his eyes briefly and then looked up at Armie. Timmy was practicing what face to show the world. His eyes glazed over briefly, his mouth turning downward. Before Armie could reach for him, though, Timmy had his own version of a poker face on. Open, easy to read, unafraid. Armie reached toward him anyway and pulled at a lock of hair, pushing it behind Timmy’s ear, tidying him up. The gesture full of affection. Then, he really couldn’t help it. He leaned down and kissed Timmy quickly, lingering only for a moment, his hand still in Timmy’s hair. Then, Armie took a step back and let his hand fall and tangle with Timmy’s. Armie moved away and pulled Timmy with him, bringing this sense of softness into the real world. They walked out into a corridor and let their hands drift apart, but both still very much in each other’s orbit.

If people only looked, they would see everything. Hiding in plain sight.

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Low Chime's [Away The Day](https://open.spotify.com/track/5US83QntM7k3SZ8Qql8L5s?si=JO-hqQ0WR6CrKt9goMNKig).
> 
> I'm on [tumblr](http://ohwilde.tumblr.com)!


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